Our hearts were singing as we approached the Norway border, ready for the final stretch to Nordkapp. They were singing not just because we were approaching our goal, but also because we had just spent a few days in unspoilt Lapland. The Lapland area of Finland and Norway was the first real wilderness we had encountered since the desertscape of Wadi Rum in Jordan, which was 3 months, 17 countries and 14,000 kilometres earlier.

Our first view of Nordkapp - on the right

Nordkapp, the northern-most point of Europe is actually located on an island. Until fairly recently, getting there involved an expensive – and wild – ferry trip. And, we believe, a very nasty café (Richard you'll be glad to know that it's no longer there!). Nowadays you travel through an expensive – and wild – tunnel that is almost 7 km long and which goes 200 metres below the sea. We thought of it as “training wheels” for the Channel Tunnel, which despite all our travels, we still regard as a terrifying prospect! We hesitated before deciding to go through the tunnel, wondering whether it would make more sense to camp for the night on the mainland and to head for Nordkapp the next day. We were exhausted: we had been in the Arctic Circle camping along the roadside for 4 days already and were totally sleep-deprived thanks to the midnight sun and noise of passing vehicles. Luckily our instincts warned us to press on.

Approaching the Nordkapp tunnel

The weather as we approached Nordkapp late afternoon on 24 May 2005 was actually quite pleasant. We could see things ... like the road, which is important. A lot of people travel all the way to Nordkapp and see absolutely NOTHING. We stopped at one of the few campsites on the way to Nordkapp to check out the facilities. Our request for camping was greeted with a note of caution and a little disbelief. Did we know that there was a massive storm expected to reach Nordkapp sometime within the next 24 hours? We were advised to rush to Nordkapp cliff immediately in order to see anything.

What about getting to Knivskjellodden, we asked. This was the real northernmost point – not reachable by road. Well, as we had noticed, Europe has had a very severe winter and a very late spring this year. The only way we would get there, we were reliably informed, would be to ski most of the almost 18 km there and back. With the storm about to break, it would be suicidal to try. With our skiing abilities it would be absolute madness. Well, Knivskjellodden is only a tiny little bit more north that the easy-to reach Nordkapp cliff ... so cliff it would be.

Road to Knivskjellodden

After paying another small fortune (“credit cards accepted”) we were finally admitted to the Nordkapp cliff and the fairly recently-built North Cape hall – an impressive structure built partially into and under the cliff, from which there is a vertiginous 300 metre drop to the sea. We were finally THERE, literally having travelled to (and from) the ends of the earth! The weather was good enough for the mandatory photographs of us under the “globe device” which signifies the northern-most point. We had brought the champagne with us all the way from Riga, Latvia (thanks to Gerhard for the tip) and let's just say that it was unnecessary to chill before opening.

Champagne - of course, although the French bureaucrats would insist that we call it sparkling wine

The official photo of the latest members of the Royal North Cape Club

Fellow travellers informed us that it was permitted to camp in the carpark for up to 48 hours – and indeed the carpark was quite full, with about 8 campervans firmly ensconced there. The night before there had been an intrepid cyclist who had cycled all the way from the UK. After “choosing” the remaining spot, which had the best view of the cliff, we hastily erected our roof-tent in anticipation of foul weather. We returned indoors to view the hourly video show, which was an extremely well-produced and truly spectacular 3-dimensional affair. It enabled one to feel the nauseating experience of flying over and around the cliff, swimming underwater in the Arctic, crossing overland in a husky-driven sled ... worth travelling all that way for the video alone!

Time to venture out and cook our meal. The weather was becoming decidedly windy and wet. Luckily we had schlepped the perfect meal with us all the way from Cape Agulhas – a gift from Pat's sister Adrianne: freeze-dried “Lancashire Hot Pot”, followed by freeze-dried “Chocolate Pudding with Sauce”. Just dunk the foil bags in boiling water for 5 minutes, then break the seal and eat! We sat in the car whilst our trusty mountain-stove boiled the water outside despite the weather. Soon we tucked into one of the most delicious and welcome hot meals of the trip. Remarkably, the final product even resembled the pictures on the packet. Just perfect – thanks Adi, Steve and Daniel.

It was now about 10 pm – still broad daylight – and we stopped for coffee, cake and conversation in the campervan of Roy and Carol, a widely-travelled British couple. They would have a stunning view of the midnight sun from their window, except that the weather was turning rapidly and all that was visible of the sun was a glow through the clouds. Their campervan started shaking violently. We now knew the storm had broken, so we icerly, gingerly made our way back to our tent!

Pat poses under the Globe Device with the midnight sun in the background - before the storm broke

The weather steadily deteriorated and just when we thought the wind couldn't possibly get any worse, it did. We had spent the first night of the journey at Cape Agulhas in a storm (or maybe it's always like that there?). At that time we were worried that the roof-tent would get damaged or actually blow off the car. Halfway through our journey, camped at Lake Turkana in Kenyan wilderness, we also experienced almost gale-force winds which made us fear for the tent. Here at Nordkapp, we were actually worried that we and maybe even the car – never mind the tent – would blow off the cliff into the Arctic Sea below. Even though there was quite a solid-looking fence on the edge which was a good 100 metres away, we could not even think of sleeping. The noise of the wind and the tent canvas being buffeted was unbelievable. How do you spell “sleep-deprivation”? We thought about the poor British cyclist camped somewhere on his way back from Nordkapp.

Finally at about 5 am (still bright thanks to the midnight sun) the wind got so bad that we agreed that we had better try to put the roof-tent down to prevent irreparable damage. As Philip emerged, hanging onto the ladder to anchor himself, he noticed that one of the aluminium struts had blow away. If anyone had been mad enough to have been walking around then, they would probably have been killed. The other strut had ripped through the grommet of the flysheet. Luckily it was raining only slightly – although horizontally. It took all of twenty icy minutes to close the roof-tent, hanging on to it to prevent it from jack-knifing in the wind. Getting the roof-tent cover on was even more of a challenge – if Philip's grip were to slip, it would literally have been “Gone With the Wind”.

The rest is, as they say, history. We bade farewell to the stormy, misty Nordkapp and made our way back through the tunnel (“credit cards accepted” again). It felt fitting that we ended the journey the way we started – exhausted, exhilarated and in a storm !

Heading back from Nordkapp

Travel statistics at Nordkapp, since starting our journey at Cape Agulhas:

Continents visited	3
Countries visited	32
Days on the road	408
Distance travelled	55,794 km (about 35,000 miles)